


A Vow of Silence

by Eretsonoferet



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Drama, Family, Motherhood, Mystery, Sacrifice, Secrets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-04-20 05:44:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4775813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eretsonoferet/pseuds/Eretsonoferet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an isolated hut on Berk, a very important conversation secretly takes place between two brave women, whose actions will greatly influence the future of the Archipelago, and especially the life of a particular six year old Viking boy named Hiccup. </p>
<p>(Information and spoiler alert inside)<br/>(A drabbles collection)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Valkyrie

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very minor spoiler alert directed only to the readers of my other story: “Fly to Live”. If you aren’t reading that story, then you can ignore this alert. Otherwise if you are, and you don’t want to find out why the elder Gothi doesn’t speak, then you probably shouldn’t read this. It’s not a major spoiler though. If you have already picked up the hints planted in the first act, solved the mystery, and want to know more, or if instead you are just too curious, then welcome to my first one-shot (which now has become a collection)!
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the plot or characters of the How to Train Your Dragon franchise. They belong to their respective owners: Dreamworks and Cressida Cowell.

**Drabble 01: A Valkyrie**

“I feel you’ve come to tell me something lass, but all this while the only conversation here is the one I sense taking place inside of you.” The woman said, narrowing her ice-blue eyes and making a circular motion with her pointed bony finger, the shadows of which were projected and magnified upon the walls of the dark wooden hut. “Speak lass, don’t waste this old woman’s time. What are you here for?” She added.

“You don’t know? I thought you were supposed to see the future…” The other woman complained humorously, though she was hiding a great deal of sadness in her voice. She was sitting on a pelt-covered crate by the sizzling hearth at the center of the room, her elbows resting upon her knees.

“No one can  _ see  _ the future, silly girl. One can merely predict it based on the situation… for example: I predict that I’m going to kick you out if you don’t tell me why you came at this hour of the night.” The old woman pointed out nonchalantly.

“I forgot you are always grumpy at night… unless you’ve had a few drinks at least.”

“Did you bring some by any chance?” The old woman asked with sudden expectation. The other didn’t reply quickly enough. “Oh, don’t bother answering.” She said with a sigh. “I haven’t had a proper drink since Gobber brought me that southern ale from trader Johan anyway. So… what do you want?”

“Well, I’ve been talking with Cloudjumper… He said he saw Hiccup the other day, playing by the woods with the other kids. He was pretending to be a dragon!” She chuckled fondly at the mental image. “They didn’t see him of course. He made sure of that.” The younger woman added reassuringly.

“How you’ve managed to keep that dragon hidden all this time is still a mystery to me.” The old woman said.

“Cloudjumper is very careful, and he’s really patient. It took him almost a year to teach me how to communicate with him, but he still never left. He is really determined to end this war… we both are.”

“So this is why you came.” The old woman shifted uneasily in her seat.

The long silence that followed was only punctuated by the pops and cracks of the lively fireplace, which was the hut’s sole source of light.

“I…” She began. “I think it’s time I left Berk.”

The other woman didn’t respond right away. Her breathing seemed to stop all of a sudden. Slowly, she closed her eyes thoughtfully, and tilted her head upwards, softly hitting the backrest of her tall wooden armchair. An observant viewer would have been able to see the wrinkles on her face deepen; such was the seriousness of the conversation that awaited her. She finally took a deep breath, before she voiced the very question that she had been both waiting, and dreading to ask for months. “So, are you finally going through with this?”

“I feel like I have no other choice.” The guest answered; any appearance of confidence in her words was betrayed by the nervous movements of her hands. “Even If I manage to convince Stoick to rally  _ all _ the ships and Vikings of the Archipelago to fight, assuming he doesn’t banish me for betrayal first, we still can’t defeat that huge dragon by ourselves. It will be a massacre worse than a century of raids put together... I need to find a bigger one, an alpha dragon, who will be willing to help me.” She said, trying to fend off the doubts at the likelihood of her plan working. “It will take years, maybe decades before I find one, but what else can I do?”

The other woman looked thoughtful. “Are you sure you can end the war like this?”

“Cloudjumper… he says it’s the only way. And I tend to agree. I mean, I saw the queen… It’s like a fire-breathing jötunn with wings! It could destroy Berk just by sitting on it! Only something like an alpha can kill that monster. I’m the first Viking who can finally do something about it, and I can’t kill any more dragons knowing that they are being enslaved by the queen! The raids have already begun for this summer, and I can’t fight anymore… I’m completely useless here!” She said, raising her voice. “Someone is going to notice at some point, and then they’ll find out about Cloudjumper, and when they do, they are not going to listen to reason. They will kill him, and it will have all been for naught! Can you imagine Stoick’s face when he finds out I’m friends with a dragon?! What will he say when he realizes he married a traitor?”

The old woman didn’t have to think long to imagine the chief’s reaction. However, she was much more concerned with the reaction of someone else: a small boy of only six years, whose joyful smile was destined to be wiped away from Berk, and forgotten for years to come. “What of Hiccup?” She asked, almost hurriedly, as if she were trying to rid herself of a horrible weight. The question had been already in the air, and it was an unwelcome one, for it hurt both women to even consider it, but it could not be avoided. The younger one looked at her hands, without speaking, mostly because, for a small interval, she physically couldn’t; such was the lump in her throat.

“I don’t know what to do… I know I can’t leave him; he’s only a child. But I can’t stay here and do nothing any longer.” The young woman exclaimed, with burning tears already welling up abundantly in her eyes. “What if Hiccup is hurt in a dragon attack? We can’t keep him inside forever, no matter what Stoick thinks. He’s going to want to get out there. He will want to fight too. He is a Viking! What if he is killed by a dragon? Tell me; what will I do then?! Knowing that maybe I could have done something to prevent it! How am I going to live then?!”

“Calm lass. I know this ain’t an easy choice.” The elder’s voice softened, but even she didn’t have the answer to this. She had once been a mother too, many years before. She knew only too well the despair of losing a child, and even worse: all three of them.

“I know he needs me, he’s only six… oh gods. What am I doing?” She suddenly whimpered, cupping her face in her hands, crying. “I can’t abandon him like this! Please, what do the gods tell you? Am I doing the right thing?” The woman pleaded, trying to smother her sobs with deep breaths, but failing.

“Oh sweet child. The gods don’t voice their thoughts to us mortals so easily.” The elder explained sadly. “It is us mortals who need to observe, and learn from their deeds. But not even the gods have all the answers. They are not all wise, not even all good. The only thing they are is eternal. That’s why we look up to them; because of their timeless experience. If they were all perfect, and had all the answers, they’d never make mistakes; and if they never made mistakes, then they’d have nothing to teach us.”

“What are you saying? What should I do if even  _ they _ don’t have the answers?”

“You should think for yourself, lass.” The old woman responded gravely but sweetly at the same time. “I’m not going to lie to you; it’s not an easy thing you are trying to do; even Thor himself would hesitate at such a quest. But only you can decide what to do, and live with the consequences of that choice.”

A painful mixture of sadness and resignation besieged the young woman’s face. She looked as if in mourning, though no one had really died, except perhaps her hope of seeing her son grow up. “You think Hiccup will be all right?” She asked, sniffing.

“Hiccup is a strong boy. Not a lot of muscle perhaps… but he has a strong mind. Don’t doubt him; he’s Stoick’s son too you know.” The elder pointed out with a heartfelt smile. “Trust me, before long he’ll become tall like his father, handsome like his mother,” she flicked a playful finger under the other woman’s chin for emphasis, “and all the daughters of the Archipelago will sail for days to meet Berk’s heir, but he won’t be easy prey. He’s too smart for that, isn’t he?”

The younger woman had quit wiping her falling tears (there was no end to them anyway), but she still chuckled, accepting the encouraging words. For a blissful instant, she forgot her sorrow, and reveled in the hopeful picture of her son’s future that the elder had offered. She wished that prediction would come true, as she searched for some fleeting solace within the past: “Remember when he was born? He came so early into the world... when you told me he was going to live I almost died of joy!” Her puffy eyes became bright at the memory. “He was so small that Stoick could only hold him in one hand… I had never seen Stoick cry before that day… or since. Remember?” She asked in a pleading tone, although she already knew the answer.

“I remember.”

“And then… and then, remember when he started walking? I was so afraid he’d never walk, so weak he was; but he did! He started walking even before the Jorgenson kid… I was so happy.” The joyous recollections evoked a heartbreakingly beautiful smile on her face. She had to wipe her nose with a white piece of linen though, before she continued. “Stoick was so proud, he threw a feast for the whole village! I’ve never seen him so drunk!”

“Oh, I remember. I was there too... he picked me up on his shoulders that night. The man has no respect for his elders!” The grumpy elder snapped jokingly, although she was secretly very fond of that memory. While Hiccup wasn’t a son of her own, she had been the one to pull him out of the mother’s womb; there was no complete parting with a child after that. In a sense, while her true sons had died, being the village healer had made her a surrogate mother to so many Berkian youngsters. She truly cared for them all, though the little Hiccup held a certain special spot in her heart.

The other woman laughed at the cranky remark, but her expression turned serious very quickly.

“Until the day comes that I succeed, and the war is over, I can never come back.” She revealed somberly. Her eyes had no more tears to shed now. “They must think I died. I’ll stage something with Cloudjumper in the next raid; a kidnapping maybe... I don’t know.” She looked straight at the elder. “They can never know the truth. They wouldn’t understand… Please Gothi, promise me you’ll never tell anyone. Keep it a secret like you have Cloudjumper. I can’t bear the thought of Stoick knowing I betrayed them. And I can’t do this if I know my Hiccup grows up waiting every day for me to come back.”

“Valka, lass… are you sure about this? You are not betraying anyone. Maybe you ought to tell them before-”

“I know it’s cruel.” She interjected. “I do. But isn’t it crueler for them to think I left them, and that I’m still out there as a traitor, siding with the  _ ‘enemy’ _ , willingly away from home? Away from my son… what will the others think? What will Hiccup’s life be like, knowing his mother deserted the village? What will the other kids say to him? What if he grows up thinking I didn’t love him? At least if they believe I died, it will be easier for them in the long run.”

“Perhaps they’ll understand that you are doing what you think is best for them.” The elder tried to reason, fearing the weight of keeping such a secret from the whole village, from Stoick, and especially from the poor Hiccup. How could she manage that?

“It doesn’t matter what I think, does it? I’m his mother. Hiccup will grow up to resent me for not being with him either way. I know he will, but at least he’ll have some closure if he thinks I died. He’s too gentle and frail… I don’t want him to live thinking I meant to abandon him! And Stoick… Stoick would never allow-”

“I know.” Gothi interrupted, offering an encouraging smile as she cupped Valka’s cheek affectionately with her lanky hand. The young woman was not wrong, unfortunately.

“He’s so stubborn! He never listens to-”

“Oh, I know how stubborn our chief is, lass. No need to tell me.”

Valka breathed in deep, trying to calm the shivers in her chest. She then puffed out her deepest sigh yet. It took a while before the young woman could restore any semblance of confidence to her face. She finally stood up, and slowly walked towards the exit. The völva accompanied her to the door.

“Please Gothi. They must never know.” Valka said, turning around as soon as she stepped out of the isolated hut, and into the gentle summer breeze. The night was misty outside, and the stars veiled by the clouds. Even Berk’s lights were almost indistinguishable in the distance. It would have been a bad night for a dragon raid.

“Are you sure about this?”

“I beg you.”

Gothi sighed. “I’ll seal my lips for you lass.” She said solemnly. “But you must promise me one thing in return.”

“Anything.”

“No matter how long it takes you to find that dragon… be safe. Don’t go dying out there, or all you are sacrificing now will have been in vain.”

“You need not worry about me.” She answered boldly. “I’ll have Cloudjumper by my side. But I’ll try to be careful.” Valka promised as she tightly hugged the elder. “Just look after Hiccup for me.”

“He’ll grow up to be a fine boy.”

“I thought you couldn’t see the future.” The young woman pointed out, breaking the hug with a fleeting grin, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“I don’t have to, silly girl...” The elder explained, mustering all of her confidence into the following statement; the only humble parting gift she could afford, for a true Viking of Valka’s caliber. “He’s the son of the bravest man and woman I know. I predict he’ll make us all proud like Stoick was, the day Hiccup walked for the first time.”

“I know he will… thank you Gothi.”

“Goodnight lass.”

“Farewell Gothi.” Valka finally said as she backed away from the hut, smiling the sweetest and saddest smile in Midgard. Just then, suddenly, for a brief, breathtaking moment, Gothi was certain she had seen a real Valkyrie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Ok, ok, I promise to get back to my main story after this, but I just had to get this out of the way. I couldn't take it off my mind, and suddenly, it was written. It's the quickest thing I ever wrote, and I'm afraid it shows… but I still hope some of you liked it.
> 
> Please note that, while Valka is not listed as a protagonist in my main story (I apologize to the readers who wanted to see her make an important appearance) she is still alive as in canon, and her actions heavily influence the developments of my plot. She will be a constant underlying presence throughout.
> 
> You may have noticed that Valka's reasons for leaving Berk are very different in my version of the events. I also made a few other changes, i.e.: Hiccup is six, and Valka had already secretly befriended Cloudjumper, the circumstances of which I might reveal in the future.
> 
> If I had to explain why I did all this, I would say that it always slightly bothered me that Valka would spend twenty years away from her home without returning once, even in secret, free as she was to sneak back whenever she pleased and check on her son from a distance. I still absolutely love the second movie, but I somehow wanted to make Valka's disappearance as reasonable (and hopefully admirable) a choice as possible.
> 
> Only you can tell me if I succeeded! Thanks for reading!


	2. A Mother’s Plight

**Drabble 02: A Mother’s Plight**

It was time.  _ Yes _ . It had to be this time; otherwise she’d never do it. Everything was ready. Cloudjumper was ready. Her stuff was ready and waiting on the other side of the island, and she… she’d never be ready.

_ Maybe in the next raid.  _ Valka thought. _ This one seems big, maybe I should stay. Keep an eye on things… on Hiccup. I’ll leave during the next one. The next one… _

She had thought the same for the past two raids though. If she were to keep thinking that, summer would have soon been over, and the raids would have ended with it, along with her chances to feign a kidnapping by dragon. She had to feign her kidnapping. They had to think she died. There was no other way to make her plan work, without some major consequences. If they thought her dead, then everyone’s lives would continue as they always had, and she’d be able to leave for her quest without the temptation of going back, putting her whole plan (and Cloudjumper) in danger.

No, she had to be brave. If one day she was going to succeed, then, and only then she’d return home, and face all the consequences of her terrible lie, but at least the war would be over. Hiccup’s future would be safe. Her son was not going to live in a time of constant fear and death, like so many of their ancestors before them. She’d return to Berk to claim the war was finally over, and then she’d see Hiccup again, all grown up and handsome like Gothi had said. He’d be by his father, tall and brave and smart… he’d understand. He’d forgive her; wouldn’t he? Still, it didn’t matter; he’d be safe. He’d be a chief in a time of peace. That’s all that mattered to a mother.

Valka suddenly caught herself daydreaming as the first fires of that night’s raid started raining upon the village. Screams, yells, war cries; the battle outside had begun. Dragons were already aiming for the livestock. Hiccup would be safe at home, far from the dragon’s interests… the Queen’s interests: food.

“Mom?” Young Hiccup said, as he stood on the wooden stairs; one hand rubbing his sleepy eyes, the other hugging his toy Nadder. His mother had just recently made the toy puppet herself in the shape of a dragon, hoping it would help Hiccup grow up without fearing the fire-breathing creatures. Little did Valka know that it was going to work only too well.

“Go back to bed Hiccup.” She said, stoking the hearth’s fire. “It’s a normal raid, your dad will take care of it. I… I might go out to help soon if… if uh…”

“Why are you crying mom?” The little boy said, timidly climbing down the stairs.

“Who? Me?” She hurriedly reached her face with her palm; there was indeed a tear there. “Oh, no sweetie, just yawning…” She feigned a yawn for good measure. “I’m just a little tired that’s all. You go back to bed, alright?” Valka said.

She was a terrible liar. Whenever she was put on the spot, all of her fidgety gestures would betray her. It was truly a miracle that she had managed to keep Cloudjumper a secret. Her luck would have soon run out for sure. Nevertheless, even assuming she could have kept a straight face, there was no fooling a child’s eyes, especially Hiccup’s perceptive ones. He approached the warm hearth, and sat on his father’s large wooden armchair by the fire. The boy looked even smaller than he was, upon that mighty chair.

“Don’t worry mom.” Hiccup began, dangling his feet nervously. “Dad is the strongest man in the whole world. He’s always going to win. Right?”

“Of course he is.” Valka answered with a quick smile, praying to Freya for the strength to withhold her emotions. Her son was of only six years, and he was trying to console her…  _ her! _ Could she ever feel more heartbroken than at that very moment? She was about to abandon the best thing that had ever happened to her. She felt so cruel, no matter how good the cause was.

“He’s stronger than  _ all  _ of the dragons combined.” She said reassuringly, making a broad gesture with her arms, hoping it would distract the little boy, and maybe herself too.

_ But not stronger than the Queen.  _ An uncomfortable voice in her mind added. She sighed. What else could she say? She couldn’t say goodbye, however strongly she wished to. She couldn’t say anything; her breath had caught in her throat.

“But he said you are stronger.” Hiccup chirped.

“He said that?” She asked softly. She knew he had. He often liked to exaggerate, boasting proudly about his formidable wife. She knew how much Stoick loved her and respected her. But was she truly as strong as he believed?

“Uh-huh” The little boy nodded.

Valka smiled sweetly. “Come here.” She said, opening her arms. Hiccup jumped off the large armchair, and shyly welcomed his mother’s embrace. She hugged him strongly, slowly caressing the little boy’s soft auburn hair with one hand, while she heard the fierce noises of battle outside getting fiercer. She wondered when she’d be able to hug her son like that again. She fondly imagined the day when she’d be back on Berk. She’d surprise everyone, though she’d then have to explain a lot, but if the war was over, she wouldn’t mind. She’d face any consequence if that meant seeing her son live in a time of peace with the dragons.

She prayed for Hiccup to be strong. She prayed to Freya. She prayed to Freyr. She prayed to Thor. She beseeched Odin:

_ I no longer care if he becomes tall as a giant, or brawny as his father, or agile like the wind… make his heart strong as that of a dragon, so that he may forget me, or maybe, one day, forgive me… That’s all I ask. _

“Off to bed now.” She said, kissing her son’s forehead and breaking the hug. “Mommy’s got to help the others. Alright?”

“Alright.” Hiccup agreed, making his way slowly up to his room with his Nadder toy in hand.

Valka picked up her shield from the wall, and a small axe. She left her armor though. Hopefully she wasn’t going to need it in her travels, and it would only be an additional weight on Cloudjumper. She made her way towards the door, taking deep breaths.

“You’ll come back, right?” Hiccup voiced from the stairs.  _ How can a child be so perceptive? _ Valka asked herself, with a mixture of pride and sorrow.

“Of course.” She answered with her best attempt at a confident smile.

“Promise?” He asked worriedly, making the vortex of emotions in her chest almost explode. She forced herself to recall the lovely image of her coming back to Berk, so that she could truly answer her son, without averting her eyes from his beautiful green ones. She couldn’t show hesitation.

“By Odin’s one good eye, I promise that I will come back.” She said.  _ One day. _ She added in her mind, hoping with all her heart that she hadn’t just lied to her son.  _ One day. _ She repeated.  _ Yes, one day I’ll see you again. _ She told herself, smiling at her greatest, most treasured gift.

Then, with a single firm tug on the large handle, she opened the heavy front door, letting the sounds of battle flood the inside of the house. She breathed deep, trying for one last time to memorize the scent of home. Before she knew it, she had stepped out. The door was closed behind her, and she was walking down the hill. She had made her decision. She allowed her movements to be guided by duty, as if the legs marching away from home were not her own. Little did Valka know that she wouldn’t see her son again for more than ten years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this second part is very short, but since there isn’t enough drama on my other story (yet :P) I decided to try to continue this one-shot, and describe an additional scene. Don’t worry, I’ll get back to writing Fly to Live immediately. I like tearjerkers myself though, but I’m still not sure I’m good at writing them, so I’m using this as training ground. It still feels kind of weird… did anyone feel a little sad? Anyone got misty? Oh well... I’ll do better next time I guess XD.  
> I’m actually considering adding a few occasional chapters after this, that will follow Valka actually leaving, and the first steps into her quest, and maybe Gothi coping with her vow. Perhaps this could become a drabbles collection. Anyone interested?
> 
> (I’ll still prioritize my other story ‘Fly to Live’ of course. This is more of an experimental, side, occasional... thing. ^^)
> 
> Please review! Cheers!


	3. A Vow of Silence

**Drabble 03: A Vow of Silence**

Gothi was walking down to the village that night, aided as usual by her tall decorated staff. The dark sky was clear, and the moon full, glowing with the same pale reds of the still hot bits of charcoal in a dying hearth. Thanks to its feeble light, the dragons could be spotted from leagues away, as they came to attack and raid their village for yet another time that summer; hopefully the last for that year.

Valka however had yet to leave the island. The young lass hadn’t spoken to the elder again since she had announced her choice. She was clearly hesitating, as any mother would, but this was probably going to be her last chance. It was now or never, Gothi knew, that’s why she had decided to go to the village that night, despite the danger.

She wanted to see. She wanted to be there. She could not allow herself to hide in her secluded hut, that’s why she had instructed the oldest of her apprentices to stay back, and tend to the injured in her stead. She’d be out there this time, just like in her youth.

The dreadful symphony of roars and cracks and cries was beginning. Gothi was right on time. How long had it been since her last night in the front lines? Years? Decades? She had almost forgotten what being up-close with a throng of violent dragons felt like. She always stood by, inside her home, where the healing supplies were stored, ready to receive any gravely wounded men or women, while her younger apprentices would be out in the field of battle, dealing with the minor injuries. The elder was supposed to be kept safe, according the the other members of the council.

_ Since when?! When have I stopped being a true Viking?!  _ Gothi thought indignantly. _ I’m the oldest person here! I-! I should be first by the front lines, knocking at Valhalla’s gates, where my sons await! _

She sighed.  _ Too bad the living rely on me more and more with every passing year here in Midgard. _

Gothi had long accepted her role, yet she truly yearned to participate in battle. Of course, she couldn’t really lift an  _ actual _ weapon anymore, and with all she knew now, she’d probably be hesitant to take a dragon’s life as well, but her old Viking limbs still ached for a good fight.

Perhaps Valka’s amazing resolve had reignited in Gothi the forgotten will to fight for something, to claim her place in the mysterious realms of the gods, and finally ask them why. Why had they taken all her children from her? Why had they seen it fit to make her suffer so? And most importantly, after all those years as a priestess in their service, why would they still invariably fail to respond to her? She sometimes couldn’t help but wonder if the heavens were truly deaf, or utterly empty.

Gothi descended the tumultuous village, all the while running the very real risk of being rammed by the blunt tail of some passing Gronckle, or being pierced by a Nadder’s stray spike, or, most likely, being burned to a crisp by an explosion of Zippleback gas. She still kept walking slowly towards the plaza and the docks, quite in contrast with the frantic movements of her fellow villagers, while she sadly observed the harsh reality of living in the northern islands.

She could feel her hand nearly cramp as it tightened around her wooden staff, before she finally noticed the feeling that had started bubbling inside of her. It was all the anger that she kept sealed in her gut; bottled and repressed. Rage which would grow every time she’d witness another death, another family broken apart, a home burnt to the ground. But this rage she could not release, for she lacked the strength to fight; it made her frustrated beyond comprehension.

Still, her powerlessness was likely the smaller of her concerns tonight, for now that Valka had revealed to her the terrible secret behind the raids, Gothi’s eyes could finally see the truth behind all that mayhem and pain, and the hidden truth was made even more pain.

Dragons weren’t inherently mindless, as all Vikings believed; their eyes just looked that way, passive and soulless. They were truly either hypnotized, or somehow forced by the hideous queen to attack. How could nobody have ever noticed this before? Why else would hoards of dragons decide to raid in organized waves every summer? It seemed so obvious now that she knew the answer.

Nobody had ever even given the idea any thought. Perhaps losing a loved one to the dragons (like each and every Berkian surely had) made one blind to the possibility that there could be some goodness inside those creatures.

It pained Gothi to admit it, but Valka was most likely right in her decision to leave Berk, and search for help elsewhere. There was no convincing a northern Viking village that dragons could ever be peaceful. The feud between them was already too drowned in blood, both fresh, and generations old. It would have been a task even harder than the one Valka had already chosen to carry out.

Besides, too many years had the raiding dragons been seen like mindless beasts, for their minds were kept in bondage, unlike the other captive dragons inside the arena, whose bonds were only physical. In fact, it hadn’t gone unnoticed among the villagers that some of their own captive dragons behaved slightly differently. Even those beasts might have looked mindless sometimes, but there was fear too inside of them. Fear that Vikings attributed solely to their state of captivity. They didn’t know that those dragons probably bore no ill will to the humans; at least on principle.

After all, the captive dragons in the arena had always appeared less bloodthirsty than the raiding dragons, even after considering their weakened state by controlled starvation. Their minds were likely their own. Valka had even told Gothi that, sometimes, extreme pain or a heavy hit to the head would often dispel the queen’s control, and the captive dragons had surely had their share of those.

Still, if Valka was also right about the queen keeping their eggs hostage each summer, then even those conscious dragons would have only strived to go back to slavery once freed, so as to be close to their offspring. That’s why there was no way to liberate the dragons (or all Vikings for that matter), without killing the queen herself.

It was such a nasty situation, it made Gothi furious to think about, and she became even angrier as she absorbed the battle around her. Her few old teeth clenched violently in her mouth to keep her from uselessly screaming. Her sons had died because of that queen-dragon, and now Valka was going to abandon her own son in an attempt to free the Archipelago of that plight.

The old woman hoped with all her heart the young brave Valka would succeed in the hardest of quests. She had to keep her mouth shut about it though, and shut her mouth would be. Her anger would help her keep it that way, till the day the queen was dead, and Valka was finally home. The elder only hoped to survive that long.

After losing all her sons to an unspecified enemy, Gothi’s life had become hollow. She no longer had the will to wake up in the mornings, and she probably wouldn’t, if only sleep hadn’t become so hard to seize; particularly without the aid of some strong mead or ale.

Now though, that she knew who the one responsible for her pain was, she had something to live for. She’d push the boundaries of human lifespan to see the dragon queen die, and watch Valka reunite with her son, before she could finally join her own children in Valhalla.

“Elder! You shouldn’t be here! It’s not safe!” Young Rollo shouted suddenly behind her. She was caught by surprise, though she didn’t allow herself to show it. Gothi frowned at Rollo, then tried to get past him.

“I shall do as I please tonight.” She stated firmly.

“But…” Mumbled the man, who had placed himself worriedly in front of her again, ready to protect her from the fires in the plaza. He was a fine lad, long-haired and very handsome (despite his still rather uneven adolescent beard), recently married too, great with the spear and very brave, but Gothi would listen to no one; not until she could make sure Valka had pulled off her departure the way she intended.

“Out of my way!” Gothi snapped immediately. A touch of anger seeped into her voice.

“Allow me to escort you to the great hall at least.” Insisted Rollo, almost sternly. If he was trying to coerce her with his imposing stature, he was certainly failing though. Gothi knew deep down the young man was only trying to be protective, but he was far too green a lad to intimidate  _ her. _ In fact, not even the great Stoick the Vast could manage that.

Besides, Gothi could not fear any of her villagers. She had seen almost all of them come into the world as naked squirming bundles, and slowly grow into fine men and women. She knew everything about every one: their wishes, their worries, their fears, their hopes. The elder was, after all, the ear to which each and every Berkian turned for council.

“I don’t feel like dying  _ yet _ , you muttonhead…” she stated much more sassily. “Go! Go fight beside your wife! I hear she hasn’t bled in almost two moons… You wouldn’t want her to get hurt  _ tonight, _ would you?” The elder asked in a slightly unfair attempt to get Rollo to leave her.

“She  _ WHAT?! _ ” The young man’s shrieked, in utter shock. A mixture of joy, exhilaration and worry overwhelmed his face, which, had the circumstances been different, Gothi would have found hilarious. The backdrop of battling men and fire and dragons had completely disappeared from his concerns. He darted off with the speed of a Nadder, leaving the elder finally alone. Gothi allowed a slightly sadistic chuckle to escape her throat.

_ Eh heh! Oh… I probably shouldn’t have said that…  _ She thought with a minor pang of guilt, biting her lower lip. She then shrugged and moved onwards. Rollo would have heard the happy news soon enough anyway. Perhaps she could afford to reveal one last small secret, couldn’t she? She stored far too many secrets and confessions in her old brain, and after adding Valka’s massive one to the pile, it was becoming very hard to keep everything contained, especially the way she liked to drink.

Flashes of flame illuminated the village, as Gothi searched for Valka’s familiar face. She could not see her by the plaza, so she decided to move east, towards the arena and Sven’s farm, where the sheep had certainly attracted the majority of attackers. Stoick was likely there as well.

As the elder trudged her way through smoking debris, she saw the young sleep-deprived teenagers already at work. Gnut, Emund, and Borg, with the younger Skili right behind them, and then two brave lasses as well, Katla and Rogin, their long wavy hair as red and chaotic as the flames sprouting from the dragons flying above them. They were all eagerly helping put out the fires with buckets of water, while the adults fought the endless battle against Helheim.

Observing the younger Berkians’ courage and fervor made Gothi experience that melancholic mixture of pride and sadness; a feeling which was lately becoming all too familiar to her. How she wished to be young again. She wanted to help too, to fight and release the frustration she now felt. Nevertheless, even if she had been younger and stronger, her knowledge would have now kept her from harming those dragons. She understood perfectly what Valka was going through. She could not bring herself to kill innocent slaves, and that’s exactly why all this knowledge had to remain secret.

If the other Berkians were to learn the truth, assuming they could somehow believe it, by overcoming their blind hatred for the dragons (which was so deeply rooted in the hearts of every Viking), some of them might end up hesitating during the raids. The queen would not hesitate though, and the revelation of that secret could only threaten the Vikings’ ability to defend themselves, for if there was any truth to what Valka had said about the size of their enemy, then there was very little that mere humans could have done about it; no matter how brave, or valiant. For everyone’s sake, she had to keep her lips sealed, and endure witnessing the injustice alone. Her life was about to become one of lies, of evasions; one of silence.

Yes. She’d vow to never speak again. Her voice was a small sacrifice, compared to the one Valka was about to make. Although doing and saying nothing in front of such injustice, was likely going to become her hardest endeavor yet, it was still the most prudent thing to do for the sake of Berk’s survival. She’d endure it and lie, and then she’d gladly accept the judgment of the gods, assuming they even gave a damn.

Gothi found a spot by the cliffs, slightly out of the way of the fires. She didn’t want to be seen, so she wouldn’t have to convince anyone else to let her roam the dangerous village like she had Rollo. She had sneaked in a narrow alley, leading to a small wooden terrace by two houses on high ground. The terrace was very high in relation to the sea, but it had been fenced to prevent anyone from a deadly fall to the docks. If Berk had been a ship, that small terrace could be thought as a protruding bow, where, if she leaned east, towards her left, she could clearly see Stoick by the fields, spinning his hammer in the air like Thor himself, trying to keep some sheep on the ground. To her right she could still glimpse at the plaza and the smithy. She could also see the docks below, where a few other teens were tasked with keeping the boats from catching fire.

Gothi kept her eyes solely east though, towards Stoick, by the crowded fields, for that’s where Valka was most likely to carry out her plan. The young woman needed to be seen by as many Vikings as possible.

Soon enough there she was. The lass was walking in a straight line. Although Gothi’s eyesight was no longer what it once had been, she could still feel the determination in Valka’s steps. Not even the occasional sounds of crashing wood and the frequent explosions appeared to be capable of distracting the young woman. Even the dangerous dragons flying overhead seemed to be avoiding her altogether.

There it was again, that sense of pride and sadness and frustration, tearing Gothi apart. She couldn’t do anything or help anyone. Not Stoick, nor Valka, nor the little Hiccup. Not even the sheep! She could only observe the events unfold before her eyes. She felt too old for that world.

Suddenly, Gothi no longer wanted to watch. She didn’t want to look, as the marvelous four-winged creature named Cloudjumper landed upon the cliff’s edge. She didn’t want to look as a wall of fire rained down to separate Valka from Stoick and the other Vikings in the fields. She didn’t want to hear her false, but nonetheless heartbreaking, cry for help. Most of all, she didn’t want to hear Stoick’s very much real and desperate scream of Valka’s name, as the four-winged dragon snatched her from the ground and fled into the night sky.

But she had to watch, and she had to listen. She had to witness every part, because those moments, Gothi could somehow already tell, were only the beginning of something so big, it was going to change the history of Berk and the whole Archipelago forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This has officially become a drabbles collection. It will of course concentrate on the events preceding my main story ‘Fly to Live: Chronicle of an Exiled Viking Boy’, particularly on Valka’s Journey and Gothi’s situation on Berk. This collection will be updated completely at random, since Fly to Live is where I’d rather put most of my efforts. On other news, I’ve made a Tumblr blog related to my AU! Links are on my profile page as usual.
> 
> EXTRA NOTE (The mechanics behind the raids):  
> I’d like to clarify my reinterpretation of the mechanics behind the raids. In this AU, the queen has the same (but still weaker) power that the Alphas have. She uses that power to control her armies, and have them provide food for her. She often loses control of some dragons during the fights, but she easily gains it back because those dragons still return to the nest for their eggs, which the queen keeps hostage. (Keep in mind that I consider the queen’s mind-control range far larger than her “mind capture” range.)
> 
> The dragons which haven’t laid any eggs are usually the rarer (and stronger) ones, who are also less likely to have available partners in the nest. They are still sent to battle occasionally though, and when something happens that puts them out of her control, it’s a permanent loss for the queen, for they have no reason to go back, and get close enough to her powerful mind again. Both Cloudjumper and Toothless can be considered to be in this situation.  
> Now, the raids in my AU happen only during the summer for a couple of reasons. First, because, even in its original form, it’s a parallelism with the actual historical Viking raids, which happened preferably when there was better weather. So I assumed it was easier to raid in the summer for dragons as well. However, the most binding reason is that of the eggs.
> 
> I presumed that Dragons have a relatively flexible mating season during the summer months. Therefore, that's when the eggs are laid, and that's the only time the queen can keep the offspring hostage. Once the eggs hatch however, as was said in the second movie, the mind control/coercion doesn't work on newborn dragons, who would likely leave the nest if their biological parents aren't close ("they listen to no one"). So, assuming the eggs hatch around the end of summer, that's also when the raids stop, only to begin again when there are further unhatched eggs to keep hostage. This way, the queen can ensure that she doesn't lose virtually any of her slaves.
> 
> I hope this interpretation maintains a good level of internal logical consistency, without deviating too much from canon (at least the end result seems pretty similar to me). But if you think there’s a bug, please let me know!

**Author's Note:**

> SHAMELESS PLUG: If you didn't know about my main fic (which, as I've implied before, is strongly connected to this collection), and you like Hiccup-leaving stories, you can always check it out by searching Fly to Live: Chronicle of an Exiled Viking Boy, or by visiting my profile page.


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